


Bad Ideas

by knightlymuse



Series: Decisions [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: OH GOD WHY, also really bad ideas, and vomiting, seriously I don't recommend playing this game for too long, tw: underage drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:21:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightlymuse/pseuds/knightlymuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bored one Saturday night, Vriska and Dave decide to play the My Immortal drinking game... [Takes places after Chapter Eleven of Things - they're legal adults but not legally able to drink]</p>
<p>[Just a dumb little oneshot I thought of cause it's been a headcanon since I started writing the original story]<br/>[Also I'm horrible at typing how people sound. I hope they sound drunk to you guys.]<br/>[ALSO AS A WARNING. IF YOU EVER DECIDE TO PLAY THIS GAME TAKE PRECAUTIONS. DON'T GET SICK. DON'T USE ALCOHOL IF YOU'RE UNDERAGE. BE SAFE.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Ideas

“Fuck this,” you say, tossing the controller down on the couch beside you. “This is boring.” It’s Saturday night and once again, you and Dave are stuck at home. Jade and John are off visiting relatives and Rose was off looking at colleges. And Bro’s out… Somewhere. You don’t quite know. You groan, sliding down off the couch to the floor.

“Dunno what to tell ya Vris.” Dave turns off the console and picks up the controller you dropped. “I think we’ve done everything we can do here, unless we go beat each other up with swords on the roof.”

“Nah, it’s dark and cold out there.” You pull yourself up until you’re sitting on the back of the couch. “Watch a movie, maybe?”

“We could act out each movie we have,” Dave says as he heads to the fridge. He opens it and gets himself a bottle of water before he stares. “Bro left beer, wanna play beer pong?”

An idea clicks in your head and you get off the couch entirely. “Actually… I got a better idea. You ever hear of My Immortal?”

“That song?”

“Yes Dave exactly.” You roll your eyes, most likely unable to be seen from behind your shades. “No you dipshit. That really horrible story thing?”

It takes him a minute, but it clicks. “Oh yeah, that thing. What about it?”

“I think there’s a drinking game for it.”

He’s silent, looking between you and the beer. Finally he pulls a bunch of cans out and carries them to the living room. “Get your laptop. I wanna know what rules there are to this game.”

Without missing a beat you scurry to you room and grab it, coming back out with laptop and charger. Once it’s plugged in and set down, you start it up and search as soon as you can. Dave’s already got a can open and drinking from it. It doesn’t take you that long to find the page you’re looking for; reading it, however, is another story. “Jesus fuck there’s a lot of rules to this game.”

“So we don’t follow them all. If we play with only one rule we’ll probably be smashed anyway so just pick some.” Dave’s lowered his shades a fraction as he scans the rules. “Uhhh… Yeah let’s just do these ones.” He points to a couple and you nod, opening a beer of your own and taking a sip.

Dave swipes your laptop from you and you make a face at him as he searches for the story itself. As with the rules, it came up immediately and he clicks the link, clearing his throat to begin reading aloud.

After the first author’s note you both need a new beer, and decide that instead of drinks you’re going to take sips to try and spare Bro’s beer stash.

\----

“Da’e we godda keeb goin.” You nod seriously and immediately wish you hadn’t done so. Even with breaks to eat and try and regain some sobriety, you both have failed miserably. You nudge him in the arm, trying to get him to continue.

“Dis is horbible.” He shakes his head slowly. “Ah do’ eben know wha chaber wer on nehmore. Buh dis is horbibly guh.”

“No’s jus’ horble,” you say as you look up at the screen. “Wer on chaber den. C’mon Da’e we kin do ih.”

He shoves you away and rather easily, you fall onto your back on the couch. You two gave up on rules entirely and just started drinks every once in a while, whenever it felt right. Beer cans litter the floor beside you, having fallen after you tripped onto the coffee table on your way to the bathroom.

So far neither of you has puked, but you’ve both been pissing rivers.

Dave keeps reading and you both keep drinking. You actually have no idea how much of it you’ve consumed, but you’re sure that you both owe Bro money for at least one new case. Once he’s done reading he’s just silent, staring intently at the screen as if wondering what he’s read.

Until you both burst out laughing, that is. You try to form words to ask “What even is this story?” - Instead, between your laughter and inebriation it sounds more like “Wabensdisdora?” Dave’s in no state to answer you or to talk at all; he’s fallen to his side, holding his stomach in laughter. By the time you’ve stopped laughing you’re both hiccupping rather loudly, but you’re able to continue.

You take over reading the story for a couple chapters. By the time you’re at the fifteenth chapter you’re not even sure if you’re mispronouncing words because of their spelling or your drunkenness. Dave’s holding onto a bucket for dear life as you read and you’ve excused yourself more than once to the bathroom to make friends with the toilet. Currently you are staring at the button to go to the next chapter like it might attack you.

You ran out of beer last chapter, but you found rum in the freezer and mixed some into a can of cola each.

You also discovered that it burns a little when it comes up.

“Vrisga ah fin wer done,” Dave mumbles. “Bro’s gunna come bacg an’ hafta taeg us do da hosbible er somthin.”

“Ah dunno wha yer talgin bou’, uhm perfedly guh,” you confidently declare. “C’mon Da’e, wer stronger den dis.”

He groans, but nods. But you are sure somewhere in your mind that he has a point. Yet you go on, clicking the button for the next chapter. Once it comes up you start reading out loud. Your head hurts and you stop mid-sentence and just down the rest of your drink. Dave tilts his head to the side so he can see you over the rim of the bucket.

“Da’e.” You try to sound as serious as you can, yet you fail.

“Wha?”

“Wer no’ stronger den dis.” With that you get up and stumble to the bathroom. Thankfully your friend mister toilet is there and you cling to him for dear life as you spew out most of what you had drank tonight. This was probably your worst idea ever. Fuck, you think tears are coming out as you puke and you feel pretty damn miserable.

You will never look at beer the same way again. Ever.

It takes a lot of effort, but you manage to push yourself up and clean up before you head out to the living room/kitchen area. Dave’s still holding the bucket in an iron grip. You stumble to the fridge and get yourself a bottle of water before slumping down at the table. You don’t even drink it, you just press the cold bottle to your forehead to try and relieve some of the pain.

Neither of you two make an effort to talk. Dave takes the bucket to the bathroom, and your stomach flips around as you hear him in there. You get up and open a window, shoving your face outside in the hopes that maybe the cold air will sober you up.

No such luck.

Dave comes out, sans bucket, and slumps down on the couch. The apartment is entirely silent; neither of you want to move more than you have to, and turning on the television seems like too much effort.

You don’t even jump as the doorknob shakes; glumly, you just look towards it as you hold onto the counter. Dave takes initiative to get up, and though it takes him a few tries he manages to unlock the door for Bro.

At first Bro doesn’t seem to be paying attention to you two as he shoves his keys on the stand and tosses his coat on the hook. He’s talking about something or other, you’re really not paying attention to him at all. After a moment, though, he stops and surveys the scene. The beer cans never got picked up, you’re still at the open window, shivering, and Dave looks like he might be sick again.

“What. In the _fuck_. Did you two do?” He’s looking between you two and his tone is somewhere between amusement and irritation.

“Bro. Dere’s a horbible sdory on the inderned and ih had a dringing game…” Dave starts.

“…An’ we played ih,” you finish. As a thought, you add, “An losd.”

“Oh. Well, okay, I guess,” he says, nudging you away from the window to close it. “You two should probably sleep, how much did you even drink?”

“All a ih,” you say. “We owe yah beer moneh.” Dave nods in agreement with you.

“You shits drank all that beer?” Bro shakes his head at the pair of you. “What kind of rules were you following?”

“Verry few,” you say. “Noh eben haf of dem.”

“…Right. Just get to bed you two.”

You’re both happy to oblige. You stumble to your room and wriggle out of your pants before you just flop on your bed and hold onto your pillow for dear life. The room’s spinning a little bit and it kind of freaks you out, but soon enough you’re asleep.

\----

You’re awakened in the morning by the smell of bacon and pancakes. Normally that would be a smell you enjoy, but right now your stomach is having a fit at smelling it. You bolt out of bed to the bathroom, only to find it occupied.

It sounds like Dave is having a similar problem to yours.

Fuck. You’d rather not blow chunks on the carpet; it would just be a bitch to clean. You debate finding a window to puke out of, but you’d rather not scare someone on a lower floor. You beat on the door and wince at just how _loud_ that is against your ears. Double fuck.

It doesn’t sound like Dave’s even close to being done, either. You jiggle the handle, intent on hoping he’ll answer so you can shove him out of the way but to your surprise it opens.

You don’t even think, you just barge in there and decide to become friends with the tub this morning. You swear that Bro’s laughing at the two of you from the kitchen.

This was the worst idea you’ve ever had.


End file.
